


love me sober

by we_are_inevitable



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28839720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_inevitable/pseuds/we_are_inevitable
Summary: "Tell me you aren't drinking again.""I'm sorry."
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	love me sober

**Author's Note:**

> ive posted this before but i made a Lot of edits and changed the ending so,,, merry christmas

"Jack, tell me you aren't drinking again."

The shakiness. The mood swings. The incoordination. All of it is painfully obvious, and Jack knows it. He knows he's struggling. He knew he isn’t hiding it as well as he should have been, and now he's made David upset.

“Jackie, answer me.”

How pathetic is that? There he is, staring at his boyfriend, unable to even speak. David has probably known for a while. Right? No- if David had known, he would have left. He would have called Jack an idiot and cursed him out for ruining his life. Jack didn’t deserve anything else.

“Jack!”

David has always been so, so pretty. He has sharp features. An angular nose, one that Jack had drawn over and over, in addition to those gorgeous eyes. David’s eyes are so beautifully blue, and Jack had spent countless hours slumped over a sketchbook, trying to accurately portray that look of adoration that David always gives him.

That look was certainly not the look he was giving Jack now.

“Why- Why are you just staring at me? Answer me!”

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers, his throat closing up. Not good enough.

“You- You’re sorry? God damn it, Jack, I-- You promised you were okay!” David is running his hands through his hair. He had gotten a haircut a few days ago, and Jack thinks it looks perfect. Not as long as before. David has started pushing it up so it isn’t in his face while he works. “I knew it was a bad idea for you to stop going to meetings, I knew--”

“The meetings didn’t fucking work!” Loud. Jack is being loud. He stands from his spot on the couch, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. “They didn’t fucking work, okay?! I went for /you/, David, and- and I hated it! I hated it but you always looked so fuckin’ proud when I came home and- and I-- Fuck! Fuck, Davey, I couldn’t do it anymore! Do you know how hard it is?! All 'a those fuckin' people in there were _fine_ and I was fuckin' shaking the entire time! I can't function, David!”

“That’s when you fucking talk to me, Jack! I could have helped! I /want/ to help you get better! I'm not trying to be your enemy here! I love you, you just... You need to be honest with me." David takes a step toward him, and Jack takes a step back. They do this dance until Jack feels the wall against his back, but David doesn’t dare move closer- he’s still positioned about three feet away to give Jack space. 

Usually, Jack would be grateful for the space, for the opportunity to initiate the touch.

Now, though, all he wants is for David to hold him and tell him he’s alright, instead of looking at him with that desperate disappointment.

“How long, Jack? How long have you been drinking again?”

Jack can’t ignore the look on his face. “Two months.”

“Two mo-- Jesus, Jack, I knew something was going on, but I just thought--”

“Thought what? Huh?” Jack is defensive. Defensive is never good, but he feels anger coursing through his veins and there’s nothing else to say. “What, you- you thought I wasn’t fucked up anymore? You thought I was _normal_ again?”

David takes in a deep breath. “You aren’t fucked up, you’re just struggling right now. Stop talking about yourself like that.”

“Then stop fuckin’ talkin’ to me like a child, Dave!” Jack shakes his head. “Please, just- just stop! I don’t need your fuckin’ help, because there’s nothin’ wrong with me!”

“Which is it, Jack?!” David raises his voice. He’s not screaming, but Jack has never heard him like this. “You say you’re fucked up, you say you can't function, and then you say nothing is wrong with you-- What am I supposed to do?! You say you’re sorry, but you don’t let me try to help you, and you say that the meetings weren’t helping but you don’t want to try something else, and- I just- I don’t know what to do here! I love you, Jack, and I want to help you, but you're so- you're contradicting yourself again! I need a straight answer, Jack. What are you _doing_ right now?!"

A deep breath. Heart pounding in his ears. Shaking hands and tears clouding his vision. “I’m leaving.”

Jack regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but he can’t backtrack now.

“What?”

“I’m leaving,” Jack repeats, squaring his shoulders.

David stares at him with a critical gaze. He looks confused, then angry, then sad, then… numb, all within three seconds. Jack has never seen that expression on his boyfriend’s face. “Of course you are. That’s all you know how to do, isn’t it?” David laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. There are tears welling in his eyes and he looks so hurt and Jack knows he fucked up, but all he can do is nod.

“Just--” David cuts himself off by ripping his gaze away from Jack, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as he clenches his fists next to his side. His face is red. A tear rolls down his cheek. “Just go, Jack, if you think- if you think that’s the best choice for you right now. I trust your judgement.”

Jack swallows. “Just for a few days.”

David nods. “For a few days. Sure.” He turns away, walking toward their bedroom. 

They’ve been together for nearly two years. Lived together for six months. And Jack was fucking it up.

David stops just in front of their bedroom door, gripping the doorframe. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me until you’re sober. " With that, David walks into the bedroom and slams the door behind him.

Jack stares at the door, takes in a deep breath, and exhales in a sob as he gathers his keys, phone, and wallet. He looks back at the door, whispering a broken, _"I love you,"_ before walking out to his car.

***

Two weeks.

It takes two weeks for Jack to work up the courage to go home.

He's been with his mother the entire time, who he knows has been sending David updates every few days. Medda had taken care of him. Helped him through the shakes and the urges, the mood swings and the violent anxiety attacks, and he still isn't out of the clear, but he feels calm for the first time in months. He feels stable, even if the stability will only last an hour at the most.

And that's why he decides to go home, because the calm he feels has brought along the realization that he _misses_ Davey. He misses his boyfriend, the love of his life. He misses him so, so much, and he... He wants to prove that he's better. That he will be better.

When Jack walks up the steps to their apartment, he feels as though he's going to lose his lunch. None of his shit is sitting on the curb, so at least he hasn't been kicked out or replaced, but that still doesn't do much to ease his anxiety. With a deep breath, Jack takes the plunge and knocks on the door, staring down at his shoes while he waits.

The door, surprisingly, opens almost immediately. "Wow, sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be here so fast," David says quickly, and Jack looks up, seeing David fumble with his wallet. "It was, uh, $19--" He cuts himself off as he finally notices Jack standing there, and his face falls. "...You... You're back..."

"And, unfortunately, I'm not the pizza guy," Jack whispers with a nervous grin, then takes a step back. "I-- I went to Mama's for a while. I ain't had nothin', you can- you can ask her, and I went to a meeting, and I-- I am so, so sorry, Davey, for everything, and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I-- I want to get better, and I want _us_ to get better, and I--"

"Jackie," David whispers, reaching out to take his hand. "Just... just come inside. It's okay, Jack. You're home now, and that's all that matters."

Jack squeezes David's hand, takes in a deep breath, and crosses the threshold. Instantly, he's pulled into a protective hug by David, and Jack can't help but relax into his hold. The first of his tears spill over as David kisses his forehead, and he's soon sobbing, apologizing, whispering against the fabric of David's hoodie. And David lets him get it all out. David allows him to get everything out of his system.

Because they both know that this, right here, is rock bottom. And they both know that the only way to go from here is up.


End file.
